


but it feels oddly good to hurt

by cupcakeb



Series: set that crown on the ground [3]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, literally just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: Funny how life works sometimes. He’s spent the past six months trying his best to get away from Lu, to do better, be better, to make an effort. Now he’s standing outside of the club at six in the morning, and she’s clinging to him like letting go would cause her physical pain.Polo dies, Lu breaks down and Valerio picks up the pieces like it's second nature.
Relationships: Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich
Series: set that crown on the ground [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753876
Comments: 13
Kudos: 81





	but it feels oddly good to hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Because we all need more post season three finale angst in our lives. /s
> 
> Title stolen from Dodie's "She" (which is way, way too cheerful for this story, FYI.)

In the end, it takes another person dying for them to reconnect. It’s morbid, really. Morbid and completely fucked up.  
  
Polo’s lifeless body hits the ground, and it’s probably an accident and definitely not _just_ Lu’s fault. It’s an exercise in karmic balance. Everyone in this room wanted him dead at one point or another — Valerio can tell by the way they’re all so quick to help cover this up — and he can’t fault Lu for having the drunken courage to accidentally make it a reality. They somehow come up with a plan, and he gets through to Lu just in time to snap her out of the spiral of shock and panic, watches her lie to the investigator like it’s the easiest thing in the world.  
  
Lu puts her all into the performance. The way his heart swells with pride as he watches her lie expertly says more about him than he’d care to admit.  
  
They came here tonight looking for an escape, for the literal time of their lives, a way to end this era in style. Now, they leave feeling defeated and relieved at once.  
  
Funny how life works sometimes. He’s spent the past six months trying his best to get away from Lu, to do better, be better, to make an effort. Now he’s standing outside of the club at six in the morning, and she’s clinging to him like letting go would cause her physical pain.  
  
“Come home with me,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. It’s not a question.  
  
Lu smiles a tiny bit, which makes him want her, which is fucked up in about eleven different ways.  
  
He’s sober and she’s getting there, but this isn’t about liquid courage, or doing the right thing. The way he grabs her hand and nods has absolutely nothing to do with ethics and morality.  
  
Carla walks over then, puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. She’s got a car waiting to take her home and suggests they join her since they live in the same neighborhood. It’s slightly eerie, seeing her be this caring.  
  
Lu doesn’t acknowledge the girl, just keeps her head buried against his chest, and he can’t really blame her.  
  
In the back of the car, Lu puts her head on his shoulder and zones out for the remainder of the drive. He doesn’t think she’s asleep, sees her eyes move from the corner of his eye, but neither he nor the blonde sitting next to him acknowledge the fact that Lu is completely out of it.  
  
“Valerio,” Carla says a few minutes after they get in the car, and he’s taken aback by the way his name sounds coming from her lips, realizes he’s never heard her say it. “Is your dad home?”  
  
She doesn’t have to spell it out for him— the implicit message about him and Lu, and why it would be a terrible idea for them to run into their father is right there. It’s apparent that Carla knows. But the night has been eventful enough; he doesn’t have the energy to ponder the why or the how.  
  
It’s a valid question to ask, one he probably should have asked himself before agreeing to come home with her. He’s about to nudge Lu when she shakes her head, just enough for him to feel against his shoulder where the crown of her head is resting.  
  
“Nah,” he says, and Carla nods, satisfied with his answer.  
  
The car comes to a halt not much later, and he feels weirdly anxious at the thought of being alone with Lu soon. They’ve been in public so far; he doesn’t know how much worse her mental breakdown will get once she can drop any leftover pretense of having her shit together.  
  
Carla leans over, gives him a half hug to avoid where Lu is still pressed against him, and he flashes her a hesitant yet grateful smile.  
  
“Text me if you need anything,” she says, her voice genuine and he knows he won’t but appreciates that he could.  
  
The house looks exactly the same way it always has, which freaks him out a little. He feels like a completely different person than he was the last time he was here, sitting across from Lu and their dad at the large dining table, hearing her talk about how she loves and needs him in clearer terms than he ever expected to hear.  
  
He takes her to the kitchen first and grabs a large bottle of water. Then, they go upstairs. Lu is holding onto his forearm, still hasn’t spoken a word since they got in the car, and he can’t remember ever seeing her like this before.  
  
Upstairs, she nudges her bedroom door open and waits for him to walk past her, no question about whether he’s coming in. Right now, he’s afraid. Afraid for her, but _of_ her too — the Lu he knows is many things, but she isn’t unpredictable, not to him anyway. She’s certainly never this quiet.  
  
Old habits die hard, so he locks the door behind him. Even if no one else is home, he doesn’t want to take even the smallest chance of anyone finding Lu like this.  
  
He takes her in and sighs. Standing at the end of her bed, still in her gorgeous pink graduation dress, her makeup an absolute mess, her headband slightly out of place on top of her head, she looks mesmerizing. The fact that she can look this good when she’s completely and utterly wrecked pains him. He loves her when she’s all put together, but seeing her so messy and broken does something to him, makes him want to protect her at all cost.  
  
Her eyes are lifeless and blank, like a part of her died with Polo, and all Valerio wants to do is bring her back. 

When she walks over and wordlessly motions for him to unzip her dress, his first instinct is to run away. He fights it, but doesn’t fight the way in which his hand lingers on her shoulder before he slowly moves to the zipper down her side.  
  
He wonders what would happen if he kissed her right now, if he used the easiest coping mechanism in the book to talk her off the ledge. It wouldn’t be fair of him to instigate but if she propositioned him, there’s no way he would deny her — not now. 

Try as he might, any pretending he’s over his fucked up attraction to her is futile the second he touches her. He can ignore her and insult her for months on end, can walk away from her, but in the end, he will always be powerless when it comes to her. Months of agony, of throwing himself into other things, sleeping in other people’s beds, ruined just like that.  
  
Lu pulls the bow off her shoulder and lets the dress drop to her feet. She doesn’t look remotely bothered by the lack of clothes on her; it’s a welcome reminder of the casual intimacy they share.  
  
Her dress now on the floor, she stands there in a black strapless bra and matching underwear, staring into space. He takes her in, the simple black ensemble that hugs her body just right and hates himself for the way his eyes linger on the swell of her breast, on the curve of her hip, on the birthmark on the inside of her thigh. Mentally, he maps out a path for his lips to follow, ticks off all the spots he knows drive her crazy and wonders if she’ll let him. He wants to ravish her.  
  
She moves and he snaps out of his completely mistimed fantasy.

Lu lies down across the bed, clasps her hands together over her stomach and stares up at the ceiling and he sits down next to her. He isn't sure whether she wants to be left alone — he wants to ask, but then he's also not sure she's capable of making that call herself right now. 

"Lu," he says, and it sounds too loud to his ears, disturbing the eerie quiet of the empty house. She doesn't respond, doesn’t even blink at the mention of her name. "Lu, do you want me to go?" 

He doesn't get the verbal response he was hoping for. Instead, she sits up slightly and puts her arms around him, her upper body flush against his back.  
  
It is at this very moment that Valerio realizes he is resigned to his fate.  
  
They’re an inevitability, a given, like ships that pass in the night. No amount of mutual avoidance can stop them from finding their way back to each other, even if it’s just for one more night, one more lapse in time and judgment.  
  
It’s like Neruda said — you can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.  
  
It’s not gentle, or slow, the way in which she finally sits down in his lap and kisses him frantically. On a sharp intake of breath, her eyes find his, a question in them — _is this okay?_ —and he nods slowly.  
  
He doesn’t let himself get sentimental, doesn’t want to think about how he thought he might never get to kiss her again. Most of all, he doesn’t want to catch himself thinking that he missed this when the only reason it’s happening at all is that someone he maybe cared about _died_.  
  
Instead, he’s rough with her. Rougher than usual.  
  
He pulls away, “Wait,” as her lips trail from his lips to his jaw, moving down.  


She whimpers against his neck, “No.”  
  
That’s all the absolution he needs.  
  
In no time, he’s got her flipped over and hovers above her, trying in vain to show some restraint and give her space. He wants her to make the next move; if she initiates, the blame is on her. He still takes off his shirt, unclasps her bra, and tries not to think about the implications of all of this. She undoes the fly of his pants, takes off her own underwear so he figures she’s equally torn.  
  
Unhealthy coping mechanisms are a family specialty; shared indulgence feeds the tradition.  
  
It’s all part of a well-rehearsed routine for them, no awkward fumbling involved, and in no time he’s got her naked and begging him to just do _something_ , anything. He’d normally marvel at being in charge like that, would make her beg and plead with him, but right now that doesn’t seem fair.  
  
He pushes into her, eyes staring at her in an unrelenting fashion. The cry she lets out shakes him to his core, spurs him forward.  
  
She’s tight and perfect around him and he loses it a little, tangles a firm hand in her hair and tugs a bit, feels pleased when her sounds get utterly filthy.  
  
He sees tears in her eyes and wonders if the enjoyment he’s getting out of this makes him a bad person. Then, she digs her nails into his shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood and he realizes he doesn’t care.  
  
They like to pretend, sometimes.  
  
“Don’t go to New York,” he rasps, coming up from biting at her neck to meet her eyes. It’s selfish of him, but he can’t help it. Her roaring moan isn’t a direct response, but part of him wishes it was.  
  
She shakes her head, like this is all too much for her, kisses him instead of answering.  
  
“Just come with me,” she says finally, and for a brief moment, he pretends he will.

After, they curl into each other, and when she starts sobbing, he holds her tighter than he ever has. She weeps until his entire chest is covered in tears — it's guilt, grief, sadness, maybe even relief, all rolled into one.  
  
He touches every inch of her while she sleeps next to him, his arms wrapped around her.  
  
In the end, the world will keep moving. Time passes and nothing ever stays static. But right now, right now he breathes her in, runs a hand down her spine, and falls asleep thinking maybe they will be okay, somehow.  


**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
